Be Careful What You Wish For
by Hatter and Hare Productions
Summary: Starting with the real end of the Beldam, a series of Coraline drabble. Set mostly after the movie/book. There may be a little Coraline X Cat...and something far more scarier than the Other Mother...
1. The Black Hunger

_**The Black Hunger  
><strong>_By the March Hare

As soon as she had lost her hand, she knew she was _theirs_. **Not** when she was losing the game. **Not** when she was losing her grasp on her reality. **Not** when she had said hand dismembered by the same girl that she had promised to them would be theirs.

As soon as the wayward limb went down the well, and the open wound in the earth was covered up, she was dead.

But like any hopeful fool she fought. Left blind and malnourished by the wretched little brat that had unknowingly pronounced her death sentence, she began to claw and snap at the shadows. There was no chitter, no scratch, no scamper that could not escape her notice as her slow descent into depravity sharpened her senses into fine blades. In the walls, under the floor, leering through the cracks in reality. Their infernal eyes scoured her for weakness, chattering their teeth in anticipation.

"Leave me alone!" she cried.

In return they echoed _"Repent, Harlequin"_

"Or end my suffering!" she begged, clawing at the void.

"_Nevermore!" _they sang, tails twitching in mind-numbing hunger.

"I who once cared for you, gave you power!" she roared in despair, wishing she still had eyes to rip out.

"_Thou speakest as one of the foolish women speaketh." _they sang as a chorus. _"I don't believe there's an atom of meaning in it." _

"Mock me not with words! I have had my fill of the night!" she tore her hair out, long, black locks giving way to a clear pale surface. She had no blood in her, only a self-realization that they were only tooling with her. She was to receive no mercy, in this dark, lonely place, once a palace, now a dungeon. No longer did she hold the power. Like a spider's web her might had been broken by the buffeting of the wind.

The days passed on, but to her deranged mind, each second was an eternity. She clawed at the walls, stripped of their paper. She broke the ticking clock, its sound torturing her ears. She consumed everything that move to stave off her hunger, to no avail.

Everything, but the rats.

At first, she had done everything she could to break the door, but she was merely performing a Sisyphean task. It was shut, locked by a key she could not have ever again. In desperate hope, she began to chew and bash at the doors and the windows, the ways that led to a sheer white nothing. In madness, she had forgotten it was she that made this realm, and that of course there was nothing out there. However, out there, in the void, was better than in here, in the house of watching eyes and chattering maws.

She relearned what it meant to cry.

She began to wonder if she was meant to die, if this was merely Hell and she was to be tormented forever.

She started to remember things she had long ago cast away as weak, as foolish.

She wished she could of done it all again.

Blind, delirious, alone in the prison of her own making, she finally met the swarm head on, hunger and revenge fueling her every blow.

She lost.

With no limbs, torn flesh, and the sounds of screeching roaring in her ripped ears, she cried "Who do you serve now? If not the hunt, then what? If not me, then who?"

As they tore away at her guts and ripped out her tongue and ate her _alive_, they sang in unison-

"_Coraline, Coraline, Coraline…"_

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><p>Disclaimer: I own nothing.<p>

Button eyes of your choice if you can guess where the literary lines the rats quoted came from!

So, the rats have switched sides. I wonder what Coraline thinks of that, and for the matter, why did they switch sides?


	2. The Piano

Note: Forgive me for any mistakes! I am not a professional piano player!

_**The Piano  
><strong>_By the March Hare

"Well, hello there. How did you get in here?"

The exact object in question was a simple piano, black as night without the stars. There was neither a moon, to Coraline's dismay, but no scratches either, much to her joy. Its four legs were sturdy and the seat provided was padded with red felt, but other than that there was little to mention about it. Regardless, it was an intruder to her room (what little was left of it now that there was a giant piano in it).

"Mom!" she yelled downstairs, in the way children do when they demand **immediate** attention from their parents. "_Mooom_!"

She suddenly stopped and face palmed herself. Mom and Dad were out grocery shopping!

As soon as the reality of her loneliness set in she realized (without a second to lose) that since she does not know who the piano belonged to, she had the right to a little innocent "fun". Plus, it was in her room anyway, so possession is 9/10s of the law.

She pulled the seat out, and sat down. The seat was as cushy as it looked, which was good. Her bony buttocks made sitting down a selection in fine art.

Tapping on the piano keys, she found it in working order. She giggled with barely-held anticipation. With a simple smile, she steadied herself and placed her hands on the keys. With another breath, she looked around on the keyboard, and looked, and looked.

And realized she did not know a single thing about playing a piano. She had seen someone play it (correction, it play them) but it was not a pleasant memory, and she pushed it out of her mind. So what? She could just bang a few keys and come up with a tune. Simple as that.

She raised her hands and, with a sudden fall, the thin extremities bashed upon the piano. This, of course, created a sound more akin to a cow dying in childbirth than actual music. Flushing blood-red, she stopped dead in embarrassment. Nervously, she raised her hands and looked around for some stupid reason. She suddenly felt watched by tiny, little prying eyes, and for her it was the worse feeling you could ever, _ever_ imagine. Perhaps it would just be better if she left it where it was…

As she got up to leave the piano alone, until her parents got home, she suddenly felt very…_drawn_ to it. As if she was _meant_ to play it. "But that's silly," she reprimanded herself. "It's not like it's a gift from Wybie or any of my other friends.", which she would admit were not that many. Despite her logical objections, an illogical calling is hard to ignore.

She approached the instrument very solemnly. Without sitting down she placed her right hand on the keyboard, and tapped a key. The high-pitched ivory sang a song that echoed in the air and into her soul. Her heart skipped a beat. Pulling her in like the marionette on the string, she sat down and with her left hand tapped another key. Its baritone boomed through the room, and, slowly, a smile crept on Coraline's face.

For the first minutes or so, it was just that. The girl as cute as a button was just pressing the keys and learning the sounds. But minutes passed, and Mom and Dad were still not home yet. Squelching the odd fear at the thought of them being "taken" again, she took a swallow and focused on learning this newfound world at her fingertips. She was the explorer, and this was a new land just for her, and like the explorer who learns the lay of the land, she was soon putting two and two together, figuring out what paths to take, where there were rivers and lakes, and the places to watch out for pits of stakes.

And then something connected…

If someone was to walk in and observe her playing then and there, you would say she was a genius, a master of the 88 steps to Heaven. Like bolts of lighting her fingers graced the pale plains, the black hills, the whole world was at her hands. Her sapphire hair flung wild as she began rocking back and forth violently to the new sounds. Closing her eyes, her world became notes, disturbances in the calm. All around her was nothing, a blank white sheet, and with the keys she painted the world whatever color she wanted.

For some stupid reason, she found herself humming, and then… singing! But she was too far in to step out now. And the song went like this:

_Creaking Van Iddli Fla Lu Va _

_Pretty Sah Lu Feh Iddli Twu _

_Ki Padi Trelly Goilly Doilly _

_Seli Pretty Chedi Emi Swalin _

_Gwoh Seri Ferin Dorin__Greh _

_Fairy Seiry Don Sweedes _

_Machin Twinky Doo Fweeden _

_Soreti Oosi An Tweeban Retiso _

_Neh-Neh Fehreeden Sindwee Bin _

_Doh Swin Ting Lan Twenty Some _

_Dring Doli Sweet Lan Bih City Tran _

_Dolinda Pretty Leheleni Switi Kull _

_Meli Swimmin So _

She had a one of those hidden voices, the kind too afraid to come out in the day. Oh, but when they do they are the brightest stars! For now, however, the thought of how good she actually sounded was ten millions dreams away, and for a moment, oh, yes, a moment, she was free.

The clock rang, and her mind suddenly balked. What the Hell was she singing? Why the Hell was she singing it anyway? In her mind she was just another musically-inept girl. Stopping suddenly, she realized that all the notes, all the words, everything just vanished from her mind as they did from the walls of the room. Echoes mocked her as she looked back down at the keyboard, and came upon the harsh realization that she did not know the keys or what she had been singing or everything she had been learning in the past-

She looked over at the clock. 15 minutes!

She felt her breath catch in her throat. How is that possible? She had been playing for, what, an hour or so? She knew from past experiences that she was no musically maestro.

But what if she was…

Downstairs, the front door was slammed open, followed by "Coraline! We're home!"

Coraline shot from her seat, knocking it down in the process. Racing downstairs, she yelled back. "Mom! Mom!" Her mother, who was now just returning from dropping the full parcels on the kitchen table, popped into her vision . The blue-haired gal waved her to come, that mouth of hers going so fast that the poor woman was truly unsure whether her daughter was speaking English or not. Rolling her eyes Coraline's mother followed, muttering about calling the local mental institution to see if they have room for a 12 year-old girl.

"How did you do it in! I mean, I'm not arguing, but its so big!" Coraline continued to ramble on, but her mother was lost in the flurry of words. Arriving on the second floor, the young girl slide into the door frame, arms waving excitedly as she pointed to the piano.

"Coraline, what are you pointing to?" Her mother raised an eyebrow as she looked around young girl's room.

Her stomach suddenly dropped as Coraline turned to scan her living chamber. A cold wind burst through an open window. A bed laid up against the wall, covered in sheets of lonely, star-filled night. The afternoon sun was suddenly covered in a sudden cloak of ashen clouds.

The ebony, steel-stringed instrument had vanished.

Coraline's mouth fell open so wide a train could of slipped in and out of it.

"Well, Coraline? I can't wait here for the rest of the day." her hands fell to her hips, her countenance was suddenly cross, and a bit of impatience was slipping in. "What were you pointing at?"

"There was this giant bird on the window sill," she lied, her body sinking into itself in shame, "and I thought it was a stuffed bird that you got for me. I guess," she added sheepishly as she rubbed her arms, "it was real."

Her mother looked her dead in the eyes, and shook her head. As confusion overtook anger, her mother's tongue clicked. "Some days, you are the strangest child ever."

"Hey, honey!" Coraline's father yelled up stairs. "What's the big commotion?"

"Coraline thought she saw a giant stuffed bird on her window, and she thought we gave it to her." her mother said as she strutted her way hurriedly down the stairs. "But it must have been a real bird, because it's not there anymore."

"What kind of bird, Coraline?" Her father asked, his eccentric curiosity stimulated.

"An eagle," his daughter replied, following her mother down to help with the groceries, "a big one." she added unenthusiastically.

"Oh, bummer, kiddo." he said, patting his daughter compassionately. "but call me first next time, okay?" he added, leaning in so his wife couldn't hear it. "I think your mother scared it away."

"I heard that!" said mother question chimed down the hall.

"How does she do that?' her father shouted in disbelief. The two burst into a fit of giggles, and father went outside to finish bringing in the groceries. Coraline began to follow him, but something pulled her head back, a suspicion or something, to take one last look up stairs.

The glance caught, for a flash, a worm-like string disappearing at the top of the stairs.

A shiver, like the pitter-patter of 4, little feet, ran up her spine.

"Coraline!' her mother called. "Come on!"

"Coming!" she cried back, keeping her eyes fixed on the top of the stairs until she could no longer see it.

And in her head, all she could hear was:

_We have eyes and we have nerveses_

_We have tails, we have teeth_

_You'll all get what you deserveses_

_When we rise from underneath._

* * *

><p><strong>Two notes of interest. This is a year after the events of the movie, which is why Coraline is 12 and not 11, and that the actual voice for Coraline, Dakota Fanning, actually sang in the movie "The Runaways". It is better, for the sake of reader, to imagine Coraline with more Amy Lee kind of voice, but to each imagination their own.<strong>

**Another note. The words she was singing were lyrics heard by someone for the end credits of Coraline, the movie.**

**On a personal note, I'm okay with people pointing out errors in my stories. I am looking to improve, so if you even see one spelling mistake please tell me.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing in this chapter. Not even the freaking ninja piano…**

**Thanks for all the reviews! You have no idea how much I appreciate them!**


	3. A Moment's Respite

A Moment's Respite  
>by the March Hare<p>

Clouds overhead filled the sky like a well-loved, gray blanket. The wind whistled through the tall grass and shook the tree tops, rippling the forest like the beating of the Earth's heart. A nearby trickle of down-flowing water echoed from the side of the hill, and every now and then the sweet, nervous song of the branch bird would ring out over the zephyr.

_Breathe in, _it told her, and she did. Cool, crisp air filled her soul, and for a moment she felt lighter than air.

_Breathe out, _and she would, and all the troubles of the world floated away with the breeze of the coming storm.

A part of her knew her mother, her _real_mother, would call her to come inside before it started to rain. But for this moment, in the rare blink of hardship's eye, there was no mother, no work, no life. Lying in the grass, her hands behind her head, the rustling of the green spring grass, with the Cat on her stomach, nothing could ever go wrong.

_Drip_. A shock of cold hit her nose, and her eyes shot open. The sky rumbled, and a flash of lighting lit up the world like a thousand fireflies. A _pitter_ and a _patter_ later, and the Cat meowed in protest, got up, stretched, circled several times around in a circle, meowed again, and ran into the forest. Another crack of lightning and thunder, and the _pitter-patters_filled the air.

"Coraline!" her mother screamed. "Time to come inside!" As if she had to specify where to come.

Coraline sighed, the heaviness of the world crushing into her chest like the weight of some monstrous spider.

Hardship's open eye turned back to her, and the world rumbled, but Coraline was not ready. Not yet.

As the rain began to soak her clothes, and her body began to shiver, she closed her eyes. A world of darkness and falling tears overtook her.

_Breathe in_, she told herself, and she did. Cool, crisp, wet air filled her soul, and for a moment she felt lighter than air.

_Breathe out_, she told herself. She did, and all the troubles of the world floated away with the raging storm.

_Breathe.  
><em>

* * *

><p>Thanks to Anthea Triton, Woodswolf, Joe England, and Jones "Nit" Seasight for the enthusiasm, cause we all need someone to lean on. I still love all shows of appreciation and honest critique!<p>

P.S. Miss Seasight : I totally don't mind long, pointless, and fun reviews. I just think having any reviews at all is good.


	4. More Alike Than You Think

More Alike Than You Think…  
>By the March Hare<p>

Home Economics class sucked. Not like Math or Science, that required long attentions spans that Coraline did not have. That was just normal suck-age. You can get use to that after a few years. Gym sucked big time, as did school meetings, but at least you could find a way to have fun ("Hey, Wybie, help me count how many moles the principal has!").

But, Home Economics was like a black hole. It sucked everything into nothing and then crushed it into nonexistence, kind of like her hopes of enjoying dinner whenever her dad made a meal from one of his "recipes". She sang "God Help the Outcasts" every time she went to eat, much to her mother's annoyance.

Home Economics was a necessary evil she had to take, something she swore she would avenge one day. The teacher was fat and plump, like Misses Spink and Forcible, but unexciting, unlike Misses Spink and Forcible. She had this nasally voice that screeched like bats in cave chambers every time she talked, and her jokes made licking sandpaper sound like an almost divine experience. She also _always _gave some boring assignment, like food nutrition or family resource management.

Except that one day…

"Class, class!" her nasal barked/panted over the normal roar of the class. Coraline, fearing that her life may leave her for a more exciting existence, began to scooch her earpiece of her concealed Ipod up her long sleeve.

"Today, we are learning about the magical world of sewing!"

Coraline nearly screamed. "Sewing? Oh **#$%**!" she thought. Her face must of told it all, because her teacher stopped what she was about to say and looked at Coraline. Knowing she was dealing with a habitual, but not dangerous, troublemaker, she raised an agitated eyebrow.

"Don't you even dare say 'you've got to use the bathroom', or I'll have you scrubbing gum off the bottom of every chair in this school."

Coraline thought for a second. "What if I had an emergency?"

Several classmates began to snicker.

"Blow up." Her teacher flatly stated.

Coraline thought again. "What if I had an _emergency_?" she finished with a certain frequency that only female ears could detect.

"What if I send you to the principal's office?"

The whole class was nearly busting their sides.

"Ah…" Coraline began to think, her cerebral cortex in hyper mode.

Her teacher shifted her weight impatiently on her other hip, a 6.5 on the Richter scale in Coraline's opinion.

"Never mind." Coraline submitted, readjusting herself in her seat. The class almost broke out in laughter, but a quick glance from the teacher silenced that.

"Now class," chimed the teacher, "go to the cabinet marked "Supplies". There should be baskets with…"

Coraline had already stopped listening. She needed a way out, fast. She would not, could not sew! Too many memories and none of them pretty. Not pretty at _all_.

She slowly began to rise from her seat, her plan already worked out. All she had to do was look like she was going for the kit, and just sneak out in the crowd of students.

She got up and took a few steps, and life dashed her hopes against the rocks. Out of the corner of her eye, the teacher was watching like a vulture waiting for an animal to die.

Suddenly, she found each step laborious, her breath straitened as if webbing was suddenly blocking her throat. She actually had to go through this, or suffer worse consequences. She had decided, long ago, that she would never let anyone suspect what had happened at the Pink Palace, but sometimes the scars were deeper than she liked to admit.

She made her way through the mob, reaching up to secure a basket. Every move was lethargic, hampered by the almost surreal aspect of this. Kids were walking around, _walking_with needles and threads!

She felt nauseous.

Her knees knocked like the beating of her shaken heart. With all her might, she grasped the basket, hands shaking, and brought it to her chest, eyes staring, voices whispering. She was in the classroom, and she was a millions miles down in the pits of despair.

She kept her eyes up, not glancing for a second at what she held in her hands. She knew it would be too much if she did.

Turning around, she felt her world twist. Acid climbed up her throat, but she swallowed it back hard. "No," she decided, "I will **not **be beaten by metal and cloth!"

She made it back to her seat, sweat pouring from her forehead. She forced herself to look down, to face her fears, and her eyes instinctively twitched in pain. A nibbling sound, like the kind she heard in the walls at night, began to echo in her mind. There laid two pieces of cloth, black and white, a piece of thread, and a needle.

Despite what she said before, she nearly fainted.

She felt a presence past the whispers, and looked up. Her teacher was standing there, but the look of scorn was gone. Instead, there was the face of care, of concern, of want of understanding.

But she never would.

"Caroline, what is the matter?" she asked, getting her name wrong again.

"Nothin', ma'am," Coraline said with a weak smile. "Just not feeling so hot…"

She gave her a disbelieving look. "You're not that good of a liar."

Coraline sank her head in shame. "Neither with needles and buttons and stuff like that, also" she flatly admitted, her face red with blood.

Her teacher frowned, and picked up the needle. For a moment, it looked like it was aimed for her eye, and Coraline jumped. But, instead of taking her eye, she raised it up and pointed to it.

"Caroline," she said, "You don't have to do this if it really bothers you that much,"

Surprised leaped from Coraline's face. A cop-out!

A cowardly cop-out. She straightened her posture and squared her shoulders, putting on a brave face.

Taking a deep breath, she said "No." It came out a forced, like the last exhale of a dying man. "I **will **do this project."

The teacher smiled, putting the needle back. "Then let's see what you got."

Coraline got an "A+" on the project, and every sewing-related projected ever since. In fact, the teacher even admitted to her, in secret, that Coraline was the best sewer she had ever trained.

* * *

><p>Walking home from the bus stop one day, she suddenly realized she was in good company.<p>

"Hello, Cat." She politely stated.

The Cat meowed warningly, leaping out of the grass and trotting by her side.

"Thank you," she said, throwing the scarf around her neck. "I thought it was nice too."

The Cat meowed, annoyed.

"I know!" she said, with a giggle. "I shouldn't put words in your _meow_. But until you start talking again,' she pointed a reprimanding finger at the cat, "then you should be careful with what you say." Just then, the apartments appeared in view.

An old wind whistled by, seemingly sucked into the Palace, and something occurred to Coraline, an absolutely dreadful thought. She stopped cold, and something vile shook in her body. It was cold, and it wiggled, like a worm.

"I'm more like the Other Mother than I thought." She whispered, her breath lost as the Cat meowed knowledgably. Looking down at her shaking hands, they seemed so much bonier than the last time she had looked at them.

She stumbled to the grass and vomited, nearly stepping on the Cat in the rush.

* * *

><p>Note: I have never taken a Home Economic class in my life, nor do I sew, so I have no clue how they work. Please tell me if I have wronged and what I could do to improve it.<p>

Woodswolf, I do not care if this theory is ridiculous, I would love to hear it. I am the March Hare, and not without good reason, for I and I alone write fanfiction for the Princess Aurora X Doctor Facilier shipping. If that is not crazy enough, then I will try harder, and I will regret it when I have to go dumpster diving for my kidney… _again_.

Once again, thank you all for the reviews. Feel free to critique. Please keep your eyes out for any of my screw-ups and tell me so when you see them. I love you all and I will do my best to keep increasing the rate I produce these stories.

P.S. I'm having an issue of which shipping I should support in this story (if I support any at all), Wybie and Coraline or the Cat and Coraline. What do you folks think is the merits of BOTH.

P.S.P.S. If any of you are Disney Fans or DisneyVillain fans, I would love it if you read some of my other tales. Not trying to force it on you, I just would love a little more support.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the concept of this work of fiction.


	5. My Mother

My Mother  
>by the March Hare<p>

Mel Jones had always been there for her daughter. She had held her when she scuffed her knee, when she fell from her bike, when she cracked her head and had to get stitches. Their bond had been strained, especially when they had first moved here, but despite their differences they had always been mother and daughter. There were times; her husband would say at dinner parties, that the two of them were more alike than they would admit to; strong, stubborn, and active.

Which is why Mel was surprised when she peeked into Coraline's room to find her daughter sitting on a window during a cloudy day, but her normal feline companion was not on her lap. Her stick-legs hung out in the air, but they did not swing back and forth in boredom. The day air was chilled and the land was covered in a fog, but she did not wear a coat, shoes, or even socks. Her head was against the window, but she was not sleeping. She was looking out onto the cold world, her face pale as if stricken.

Mel gently placed the laundry basket down and slowly walked into the room. Coraline did not stir, nor did she even seem to realize that her mother was in the room.

Mel reached out to her daughter.

"Yes… Mother." Those words were lifeless, as if responding itself was a trial. The shock forced Mel to pull back in fear.

"Oh, Mel, stop it!" the mother said to herself. Logical thoughts prevailed, but somehow fear was still there. "Coraline," she said as she placed her hand on her daughter's arm. It was freezing, and what bone she felt was as like cold steel. "What's the matter?"

Coraline laughed, and it was a cold, sad thing, like a bitter animal left alone to die. "I'm cold, Mom." She nearly whimpered, and finally she shivered. For some reason, she felt warmer now, and her bone suddenly became warmer, like a human.

"Put something on then," Mel almost scolded her, but she controlled her voice for fear of only pushing Coraline further.

She did not respond. Sighing, Mel sat down on the seat connected to the windows and took her shoes off. A long workday had left her feet sore, so, she reasoned, a little cold could do them good.

For a while, silence hung like a man from the gallows, and Time took its time like it always did with a gently nod of its hat as it passed by.

In truth, Mel did not like waiting, nor did she not like having to sit here and watch as her daughter suffered under some impossible burden. She wanted to know, to understand; but prying answers out of her daughter was like drawing water from a rock. It rarely worked and it usually hurt both parties. Her mind began searched through the labyrinth of possibilities, with a stream of thought, into the forests of inventions. In the labyrinth she found she found a tucked-away star, in the stream she washed the dust off of it, and in the forest she grew it to be the tallest tree in the land.

"Coraline, do you remember how you got your name?" Mel inquired with a curious lilt in her voice. After inquiring this, she found her feet still hurt. She chose to be odd and removed her socks, placing her feet on the wood floor. A refreshing wave of cold ran through them.

Coraline's blank face puckered in concentration. "I remember," she said, slowly, "that you told me once, but I…" she stopped there, as if the memory had skittered away to some dark hole tucked away in her mind at the last second.

Mel feared the worst for daughter. Mental illness ran in both her and Charlie's family, and something at school could have set it off…or something she said. Still, she decided that telling a little about Coraline's past might help; a sort of pick-up that might life her spirits back to life if depression was only the matter.

Looking around at the room she took in the toys that her baby played with, the bed she laid her head on, the clothes she dressed herself in, and with this build-up of memories and maternal energy, she began.

"When you were born, I was just exhausted. Your father was there holding my hand, and I had just finished apologizing for all I had said to him while I was delivering you. Your father was naturally frightened, but at had least now he had a reason for it. You were born about 15 weeks early, so everyone was panicking, except the doctor who was just sitting there like a baseball catcher waiting for you to pop out. Anyway, your father was panicking, and I was just done for the day. You were being carted off for NICU, and I had just started sleeping, leaving your poor father just hanging there. Then a nurse comes up and says to him 'What do you want to name her?' Now, we had decided on 'Caroline' because we were both Neil Diamond fans and our song, as you know, has always been 'Sweet Caroline'. Well, she handed him your birth certificate and a pen and he tried to scribble 'Caroline' down, and don't you know he switched the 'a' and the 'o' up!" she laughed.

"We did not know that until we finally picked up the certificate. I chewed him up and down and said we should change it to 'Caroline' but he said that he had himself a special girl so she deserved a special name. So that argument went on till you were 5, when we realized that no one ever called you 'Coraline' anyway so it did not matter." She took a deep breath after all this, and a wave of pent-up emotion came rolling out of her chest. "And so we took you home and raised you and have loved you ever since, even when you have walked through the house with your muddy boots on."

She looked up to Coraline, and found herself amazed. Her daughter's beautiful brown eyes were filled with tears, and the color in her flesh had returned. She looked at her mother and all the love that was in her heart just came pouring out of her. With a gigantic sob, she fell into her mother's arms and cried and cried and cried. Mel enveloped her arms around her daughter and rocked her back and forth just like she had done years ago.

"I'm so sorry, Mom," moaned Coraline through the tears. "I've just…not felt like myself lately."

Stroking her child's hair, Mel replied, "People change, Coraline, for better or for worse, but no matter what happens you will always be my baby."

And there they stayed, loving and caressing their souls out as the Sun busted through the heavens and onto the little, weird family of the Jones.

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><p>Disclaimer: I own nothing but the idea.<p>

Thanks as always for reading and reviewing. Special thanks to Woodswolf for telling me about her theory. We shall see if it is correct…

P.S. The next chapter, hint…_tooth-tooth and claw-claw_…


	6. Tooth and Claw

Tooth and Claw  
>by the March Hare<p>

He watched her die slowly.

He watched her skin freeze and pale.

He watched her body sink and tightened around her bones.

He watched her blue hair fall out.

He watched the new, black roots grow.

He watched her brown eyes fad to dust.

He could watch no longer.

Slinking into a crack in the house that did not exist, he walked down the steps that held no mass, arrived on the shore that knew no water, and stopped before the river that stood still.

"I know you are here," his silky voice sang throughout the midnight void.

Across the unmoving waters, a pair of blood-red eyes shot through the darkness. _"A man said to the universe: 'Sir, I exist!'"_

"Good, now…" the Cat hissed, "We have business to discuss."

The rat sang "_Business, that's easily defined - it's other people's money."_

"You know I have nothing to offer." The cat stated un-amused. "Let us, instead, work out a deal."

_"Business is not just doing deals;"_the first rat chimed, followed by two more rats whose eyes emerged from the dark. _"Business is having great products, doing great engineering, and providing __**tremendous **__service to customers."_

"And 'Finally, business is a cobweb of human relationships'." The Cat finished what they would not. "Do not think me for a fool; I am also a child of the Sixth Day as you are!"

"_Age is an issue of mind over matter." _Sang the rats, as 6 more pairs of rat eyes emerged from the dark,_" If you don't mind, it doesn't matter._"

The Cat mentally swore. "You do ill to **not**pay attention to my status!"

"_All animals are equal, but some are more equal than others._" The rats sang as 18 more rats emerged and joined in.

The cat stood up on all fours, fur bristling and quite recklessly considering leaping over the gap and tearing their eyes out. As he did, however, 54, then 162, then…uncountable hordes emerged forth singing and laughing.

The cat cooled his heels and sat back down, his tail flicking angrily back and forth. "We shall deal." He stated firmly, knowing full well he could no longer let these vermin toy with him.

The singing and laughter stopped. Though hard to see with all the eyes and infinite darkness, the first rat, the Largest Rat, stepped forward. "Let us speak-talk the tongues." He sang a tenor's echo through the void.

The Cat smiled. Forgoing the language of man for the heavenly tongues was a sign the rats were ready to deal. However, the Cat wanted more than a deal, he wanted answers.

"Coraline has not forsaken her humanity, nor has she taken anything from the void that did not belong to her. What right do you have to claim over her?"

The Largest Rat laughed. "We have no right-right by the law, save-but for the Price of Knowledge!" he boldly declared, and all his friends nodded and whispered in agreement in some mockery of a jury falling to the persuasion of a lawyer.

The Cat was flabbergasted. "The Price of Knowledge? Many men have known of our world, yet they do not lose their humanity!"

"Unless they want to!" The Largest Rat cried back.

"But Coraline has rejected the Void!"

"Not fully! Not completely!" The Largest Rat yelled, pointing a gray finger at the Cat. "Every day-day you accompany her, she thinks more upon the world you are a part of, what really happened down there, and who, if any, can tell-show her the truth!"

The Cat despaired, for he had seen these signs. Late night one-sided conversations with him, questions never answered, a longing to understand, a desire to _explore_the unknown.

"She is a child!' he cried back. "How can she understand what she is doing, what she is capable of?!"

The rat horde laughed, and the Largest Rat the loudest. "Well, the ignorant suffer-hurt just as much as the guilty! But…" he slyly added, raising a clawed finger. "At least the guilty can _repent_."

"Are you suggesting I tell her all that we have fought to keep secret?" Part of him was suspicious. The rats wanted Coraline, but for what? A patron, a leader, just as the Other Mother had been...perhaps; it was the only logical answer. Yet another part of him, well tucked away, wanted to tell Coraline, to indulge her curiosity and end the hunger for understanding that gnawed away in her mind constantly. Too long had he kept her naive, and even being a cat, he felt she had born enough to know the truth.

"You will settle for nothing else but the return of your Beldam, will you?" he said gravely.

"Or war, if you want to lose again." The Largest Rat smiled.

"You cannot afford war, do not bluff." The Cat countered.

"We have nothing left to lose." The Largest Rat half-smiled, half-bared his teeth. The mad look in his eyes was frightening for a creature of discipline like himself.

The Cat stiffened. They were hungry indeed, but they needed a patron, someone to lead them. Coraline was best person for the job and the weakest of the humans in the area. Still, he would no quit.

"You cannot have her." He said strictly.

"You cannot love her," The Largest Rat argued. "Do not **fight** it. A child of the Six Day cannot love a Daughter of Eve or Son of Adam, or _vice-versa_!"

They knew. Those bastards.

"Here is our ultimatum." Said the Largest Rat coolly as he sunk back into the mass. "Give or guide her to the darkness, or we will take her to the darkness so that she will lead us to great-great spoils!"

"You will lose! She will never give in!" The Cat roared across the river.

The Largest Rat smiled as he disappeared into the swarm, his last words merging with his comrades. "Then she will **die** another _**sad**__ victim of the Void-Touched_…"

The Cat shook with rage. "You will regret this!"

And, as the tingling swarm sank back into the void, their words echoed through the walls that did not stand.

_"__Maybe there is a beast...maybe it's only us."_

* * *

><p>The Cat returned to his domicile, a spot on Coraline's bed, shaken to his core.<p>

Her parents could be of little help. They cared, but they would want to take her to the hospital or, worse, the _asylum_. Both would be disastrous. They would be just a breeding ground for the madness in her, and the rats could just pull her in with a snap in such a place and mindset.

Her neighbors would be more complying; Wyborne would take a bullet for her. Bobinsky has potential to understand just enough (despite or because of his lunacy). The two ladies would shelter her from her parents if things go to bad, being as they have their own mystical beliefs.

He could not let her out of his sight less she is lured away. He had to make sure she ate; a sure loss of appetite could be fatal to her connection to the material. As for himself, food would just be scarce. Grab a thing here and there, even if it meant stealing.

Just as long as she was safe.

As for her, he was unsure. If he told her, she would want to face _them_head-on, which was just as brilliant as kicking against the pricks. If he didn't, she would eventually come to him for answers; for things he could never say.

For someone who never had trouble picking what was best for him, he hated his inability to help the ones he cared for the most.

_"Cat?"_

The word, spoken more as an escape of breath than an actual word, drew his undivided attention. He jumped upon the wooden floor and sprinted to the location.

_"Cat?"_

This time, it barely could be heard, even for his ears.

He bolted in a sudden run to the bathroom, and found a sight that would haunt him for his eternal years. A thing, half girl, half monster, hunched over the toilet, black hair entangled, body emaciated. Her hands resembled long-legged spiders, his nails like the teeth of a great beast. Her once-plump and round face was angled, as if clinging to the skull for dear life. Through her now-loose nightshirt he could see her vertebrae sticking out like the spikes of a demon.

Her face turned to meet him. Pale as the Midwinter snow, with cheeks red from tears. Her eyes were almost entirely black, and her mouth was filled with daggers. In voice that would eat at his brain till the end of time, she begged:

_"What is happening to me?"_

Outside, a cold October wind blew through the hollow forests.

* * *

><p>Two things: one, I have created a whole mythology that may be a little confusing to read, but if you stop and think about it piece-by-piece it should make sense. If not, say so, and I will clarify it. Second, just because I am using Christian concepts does not mean I am forcing a religion on someone, I just thought the material bore effective uses in this story.<p>

Disclaimer: I own nothing.


	7. Things Fall Apart

_**Things Fall Apart  
><strong>_by the March Hare

The dogs were going mad.

Yapping and yipping, jumping around, running at walls, as if something was in them.

April Spink swore something wicked was going to happen. Miriam Forcible just scoffed at her.

"You worry too much, April!" Miriam rubbed her temples. "Don't you know whenever you think bad things bad things happen?!"

She suddenly heard some very wicked chattering in the walls.

The mice were jumping about, not even paying attention to Sergei Bobinsky's careful instructions. They were panting as if suffocated, and they were trying to get out. He was afraid to even let them out of their cage, in fear that they may scattered at the slightest opportunity. He put his ear to the cage, putting his fingers in to pet their shaking little forms. "I hear, I understand." He crooned softly.

He closed his eyes, listening to the little ones talk.

Without a word, he rose from his knees and walked over to an old, smelly sheet that covered an old, tall locker that held old, bad things that he had wished to never use again. He flipped the old sheet off, taking in the smell of dust and mold. He frowned. The site of the old Soviet Union locker brought back too many bad memories. Pulling a key out of his pocket, he unlocked it.

"We've got big thing coming, that we do," he said upon opening the locker. Reaching into it, he pulled out a large sock, and out of it he produced an AKS-74, thoroughly clean and meticulous cared for. Giving it a quick check over, he put it to the side and reached back into the locker. He produced a beaten duffel bag, and produced a magazine, fully loaded, out of it. Putting it in the gun, he walked over to the door, and peeked out the window to a sheet of storm clouds coming in. "That we do," he muttered, "that we do."

His hands only shook once and then no more.

Mel and Charlie Jones were driving up the way, a sheet of black storm clouds on their tail. "Hunny, we may have some company."

"It's just a bad storm." She suddenly thought of her daughter. Her breath caught in her chest. "Charlie, you know that weird maternal feeling my mother use to get whenever I was in trouble?"

"Yeah…" Charlie suddenly had a scary thought.

"I got it." She said, and her foot smashed the pedal.

The gravel road racked the car, but Charlie did not care. His eyes were locked on the house, looking for any sign of Coraline. In the window, the feral black cat jumped in the window, saw them coming the drive way, and jumped back out. Miss Spink and Forcible were walking up the stairs in a huff, barking at one another. Upstairs, he caught a glimpse of Bobinsky with something heavy and somewhat shiny in his hands, but the Russian turned away before he could catch sight of what it was.

"Everyone seems to be jumpy today." He said worriedly.

The car parked, and the two concerned parents raced out. Mel went into the house, while Charlie went over to the former actresses.

"Hey ladies, have you seen Coraline?" he stopped in front of them, interrupting their argument.

Their angry faces turned to surprise. "No, I haven't" April replied. "Have you?" she turned to Forcible.

"Why… no! Is something the matter?" Forcible said to Charlie.

The sky cracked, and lightning smote the earth in the distance, about where the old well was…

"Well… we… don't know!" he admitted, throwing his hands up. "Mel got a bad feeling and-"

The former thespians needed no more. "Then there is something wrong." Spink said. "Rally the dogs!" She cried to Forcible. "Find our best sniffer, and let's find Caroline!" Forcible said not a word, making her chubby way down the stairs to fetch their finest.

Charlie closed his eyes, reconfiguring his thoughts. From the Pink Palace he could hear Mel calling for Coraline, each shout more desperate than the last.

"Damn it." He muttered to no one in particular.

* * *

><p>The Cat did not have an easy time hiding her. She was weak, delirious, and uninformed, all three she hated.<p>

"What is wrong with me?!" she managed to scrap up enough anger to yell at him, but instantly regretted it. Her body convulsed for another episode of vomiting.

He shook his head, as if to say "Not now!" jumping outside the bathroom. "Follow me!"

"Yeah, thanks for the explanation." She spat out the last of the bits. She got on her hands and feet, making easy movements away from the toilet just in case. Her now needle-like hands shook in front of her. The Cat pushed up against her, encouraging her to stand. "I'm working on it!" she muttered at the Cat, grabbing ahold of the door frame for support. Lifting herself up, she found herself strangely taller than before, yet her spine seemed only to want to curve. The sudden shock sent her to the floor.

The world swirled, and she was suddenly unsure of her own name.

Once again the cat was brushing up against her, but she was no longer in the mood for it. "Leave me alone!" she tried to shout, but it came out in a rough mutter. The cat did not listen to her, pushing her up and up and up wherever he could. She only smacked him away once, begging only to be left alone. "I'm so tired." She mumbled. "So tired."

If only she knew that sleep would be the worst thing right about now.

"Come on, you foolish woman!" he hissed at her. Hearing the anger and fear in his tone, she submitted, getting back up on her hand and feet. While not even attempting to stand back up, she followed the cat on her hands and knees, who was leading her to the kitchen door. "Why?" she thought, "Why?"

By the time she made it to the kitchen, the cat could hear the approaching car…and the sounds of little, nonexistent paws in the wall. He left her, only for that moment, to check, running his ears against the walls. He could hear them breathing…panting...eagerly…

The sounds of gravel getting torn up grabbed his attention, and he darted down the hall to the closest window. When he saw the approaching car, and the worried looking parents, he ran for it, yowling and howling at Coraline to move. Call it cruel, but he had to get her out of there. The Humans could not understand, could not comprehend, the fate that would fall them if they kept her in the house any longer…

She was too close to the Void to be protected. The only solution would be complete separation. Sanctuary in a church was his hope, but first he had to break the link to her and the house, and distance was the only solution.

He moved her along, until she got out the door. With a ferocious rush, he knocked her down the stairs and down the hill. Not the easiest of ways to get out, but she would have to thank him later. He could hear her mother screaming for her, running through the house.

Coraline, dazed and dumb, could only stare up at the sky. The sound of her mother's voice called to her. "Mom…" she muttered.

"No!" he said, pushing her along, "If she found out it would be the end of us all!"

"We are stronger than we appear." Said an old yet clipped tone.

* * *

><p>Mel raced around in a blind rush, unsure of time or space or pain except what was in her heart. She had the distinct feeling that she had been powerless once to help her daughter, and the feeling ate at her, beating her forward like a driver's lash. Down and all around, and then up she went. Stairs flew by like rampant animals as she dashed for Coraline's room. She found it empty, and screamed for her daughter even louder. All around, in and out of holes and back again. Her precious, little angel had been swept away.<p>

Racing downstairs, tears filled her eyes. She hated life, hated feeling, hated this sudden loneliness, but most of all she hated herself for failing her gift from God.

Almost falling down the stairs, she ran for the door, begging silently for help from God or anyone else that could hear her. Her panic was cut down by a calm but tense voice, stopping her dead.

"She is here, Mrs. Jones."

She turned to face the voice. Standing in her back doorway, wrapped in the light of a lightning bolt, was Bobinsky, holding the broken form of Coraline. At his feet was the very edgy and frightened feral black cat.

Outside, the sky cried.

"Coraline!" her mother screamed out, as her father came from inside. Her mother reached in to hold her, while her father, surprised at her sudden return, felt his heart almost halt. The cat, meanwhile, dashed away off into the house.

Bobinsky let the child slide into her mother's arms, and the two sunk to the ground. Coraline was barely conscious, and her body felt as cold as a midwinter's chill, but her mother held her as tight as she possibly could.

"What happened?" Charlie inquired, running his hands through his hair in a mix of joy and dying fear.

"She is sick, but not with the sickness of mind or body." Reaching down, he pulled the girl's head back, revealing the thin face, the sharp teeth, the pale skin.

The sight was horrifying, completely unnatural, and the Jones' recoiled in shock.

"What…?" was all Mel could say, and Charlie reached for his beating chest as he fell against the door frame. "My baby…" crooned the poor mother, leaning over her poor child as if protecting her from the cruel world.

"The Beldam." Said the father, the words both unnatural and instinctive in his mouth.

Suddenly, the memories returned, abruptly, as if their skulls had been crushed by an ethereal sledgehammer. A sudden drop through the world, as if dragged by a thousand small hands. A new cold world, seeing only outside through mirrors. Watching their daughter suffer slowly and alone. The face of the Beldam laughing at them…with Mel's face.

"Oh, God," was all Mel could say, for a moment clutching her skull.

"The cat told me that there are evil things after her, doing…this to her." He paused, fear and uncertainty worming his way into his heart. "Getting her to a church would protect her." It was all he could think of, and he almost wanted to admit he was not sure it could work.

It was all so much to take in, but Mel and Charlie moved with love as they carried Coraline off to the car and drove away. By now, the cat had returned from sniffing out the house, while Spink and Forcible settled down their old hearts. They had heard that Coraline was found and safe, so they could put the dogs back. They did not know, however, that she was not going to a hospital, but a church, and that she was turning into an extra dimensional void-demon.

Bobinksy was still wary, sitting in the Jones' kitchen quietly with his gun.

"I thank you, and am in your debt," The Cat said, jumping up on the table.

"Bah, it was nothing, _Кошка_" he waved it off, his eyes closed in thought. "It was just luck that Jones' remembered what happened, heh?"

"I'm more surprised you know of the Void and of us Animals." The Cat replied.

"Chernobyl did _that_ for me." Bobinsky opened his eyes. "Will she be safe?"

"Holy ground is powerful," The Cat said. "It will at least hold them off for a while."

"How do we cure her?" the Russian giant inquired.

"Break the connection."

"Sounds like easier said than done." Bobinsky remarked.

"Yes, it is. We will have to drive the Rats from the house. They have been here for 200 years."

"Deep nests." Bobinksy said, knowing how pests worked. "They have roots here."

"Very deep."

Both sighed.

"Where do we start?" Bobinsky asked.

"Humans cannot enter the Void unless through a pre-existing door." The Cat stated. "And the only door in the house was locked to prevent the Beldam from coming back. I know of no other doors."

"Then I'm stuck here?"

"Yes, but you can still do some good. If the Rats come for her, they will come out of the house. They don't know she is gone yet, so they will look for her here first. You need to slow them down while I head down in the Void and destroy their nests. Once they are cast out, they can no longer stay here, and will have to go elsewhere, forcing them to break their connection to Coraline and the Pink Palace."

"Sounds good." Bobinsky nodded, impressed with the plan. "I have two questions, however."

"Understandable. Ask… away." He said with a wave of his paw.

"First, we still have the lady-actors and their _schenki_?"

"Oh, don't worry." The Cat said mischievously. "I will deal with that."

"Good. Now, number two, how many of these… Rats are there?"

The Cat's tail stopped flicking. His face went frank. "Do you _really_ want the truth?"

"Yeah." The Russian grinned, a mask for his fear. "I need to know how many landmines I'll need."

The Cat suddenly felt very worried. "I will have a house to come back to when this is all said and done, right?" His tail flicked in anticipation.

The Russian shrugged in a carefree manner. "Maybe yes… maybe no."

* * *

><p>Sorry about the wait. Thanks for reading!<p>

The question remains, however. Why would Bobinsky, being the good-natured man he is, let Coraline face the Beldam alone, all the time knowing of what was going on? That answer, dear readers, and more await you in the next chapter!


	8. Praise God and Pass the Ammunition

Praise God and Pass the Ammunition  
>by the Marvelous March Hare<p>

They pulled up to the church, tires screeching. Mother carried daughter while Father ran to the doors.

"They're locked!" he cried in anguish.

"The crowbar in the trunk!" Mel replied.

"Are we breaking into a church?" Charlie said in disbelief as he rushed to the car.

"I'm sure God will forgive us." Mel said as her husband opened the trunk, pulling out gold clubs and lawn chairs and no crowbar. She looked up to the sky, the pressure of Coraline's spine digging into her arms. The dark cloud was already well over the house, and coming this direction.

The wind blew into her face, and she could feel an eternal hunger driving towards them.

"Hurry Charlie, hurry!" she cried back.

"Working on it, sweetie," he gritted back. Pulling back the sleeping bag, he found it; a rusty, red, old crowbar that had been in the family so long it had earned its own name…the Crowbarinator!

With a family like his, reunions were always a spectacle to behold.

This thought, like so many others in his mind, blurred by him as he raced up the stairs and jammed the crowbar into the door. He pushed, and pushed, and pushed… but the door only budged.

"Damn it!" he swore, breaking off from the door and fighting for breath. "Well, what the hell do we do-"

Mel put their daughter down, grabbed the bar from him, and smashed one of the windows open without a second thought. She put the crowbar down, gently lifted her daughter into her husband's arms, and began to crawl cautiously through the broken glass window. Charlie watched her make it through, her hands receiving a few cuts in the process. She got the other side however, let Charlie slip their broken baby through, and gently took her back into her arms. Charlie followed after her, but was more cautious and then his wife, and avoided getting cut.

Once inside, the couple breathed for the first time since they had been at the house. Their hearts raced like jackhammers on concrete, the pressures of the day beating on their skulls and chests.

"What now?" Mel asked, putting Coraline down on a pew and looking up at her spouse.

Charlie shrugged. "We're in a church, so I guess there's no better time to pray."

"Now you know Charlie I don't buy into all this-"

Husband looked at wife, and wife knew that maybe now was not the time to argue about the existence of supernatural beings.

Quietly, humbly, worriedly, the couple kneeled down on the pew on each side of Coraline and prayed, hold hands with one arm and the other caressing their daughter.

* * *

><p><em>Apple and pear trees were blooming.<em>

_O'er the river the fog merrily rolled._

_On the steep banks walked Katyusha,_

_On the high bank she slowly strode._

The Russian's song was vaguely familiar, but it had been awhile since the Cat had been to Russia. It was of love and loss and hope, things the Cat thought on as he slunk out the door and to the apartment downstairs. The last thing he heard before he left was the sound of directional anti-personnel mines being placed throughout the house. The clunking sounds did not do much to steady his nerves, already raw as they were. Only the thought of Coraline being away from the Pink Palace however brought him a sense of security, somewhat.

What causes a feline to love? From a human's perspective, they are cold, selfish, and sometimes useful…but only to get rid of smaller pests and sad times. Sporadic in nature, yet calm in form, their nature is to work alone. They rarely need others, except domesticated ones; they can get quite whiny.

The Cat never knew love, or much of anything as to what made him who he was. He just was, an orphan from the time he could remember, and he was satisfied with that. He knew he hated rats, liked being petted, had a few good friends in the past, and was in love with a human girl. That was all he knew, that was all he cared about.

And so, driven by animalistic passions he moved with fiery passion, a deep hatred-

"Angus! Get back here!" cried Spink!

And a cat's capacity to raise a little HELL.

* * *

><p>Bobinsky stopped and looked out the upstairs window to the spectacle below. The Cat, his heels hot with terriers, was being hounded down the road, with Spink and Forcible running after them as best as a couple of overweight old ladies could.<p>

The Russian laughed, loud and deep, slapping his knee. "Well done, Кошка! Well done!" He turned from the window, wiping a tear form his eye.

The house was eerily silent now, something that hadn't happened in years. That was always some movement, some person, doing something or another. Now, there was only the sound of silence. Even his dearly beloved mice he set free so they could escape the carnage to come.

It was in the silence that Bobinsky heard the terrors again.

Children crying, dogs barking, the fires of Hell ringing in his ears. The smell of rotting flesh, a deep discomfort that crawled like worms under his skin and in his belly.

Sadly, the Russian was used to it by now.

He was young man at the time Chernobyl occurred, though he had already done many tours in the Middle East fighting insurgents and such. At least, that what his papers said. Honestly, he doesn't remember much about life before Chernobyl, beside the odd flashback or nightmare. All he knew for certain was that he was an ardent member of the Russian Special Forces, who was on a rare leave, and before the army he was an orphan in a now-empty orphanage. He was never able to figure out why he was on leave in the first place, but he suspected it was because he was forced to due to mental stress. How he got to the city of Chernobyl was beyond him, or even what he was doing there, but he was there when the plant when into meltdown. His record states he did everything he could, helping transport refugees, killing radioactive animals, and any other odd or unpleasant tasks. No one knew he had been exposure to far more radiation than it was good for him. According to eyewitnesses, he began to get increasingly irrational with each passing day until he fell unconscious in the field.

His first real memory was waking up in a hospital with blue skin. He was a changed man, physically and mentally. He had friends visit him once he was considered safe to be around, but everything was gone. All the days of hell spent together, all the jokes, moments, pain spent together was gone for him. He left that hospital alone, and was quietly discharged due to mental insanity (though he felt perfectly fine by his own account). He spent time in a veteran's hospital, but soon left once he learned to hide his odder tendencies. Knowing that he had gained the ability to speak to animals for some reason beyond him, he followed the path to the pits of society, and found the mouse. A chance encounter with a traveling circus later and he had figured out what he wanted to do in life. He got out of Russia soon after, right before the Soviet Union fell, and made his home in Pontiac, Michigan. This place was more due to convenience than anything else, but he liked it anyway. All he wanted was clean air and a chance to start his mouse circus.

And yet evil still follows him.

He sighed for a moment, and then went on to work.

In Russia, as in many places were pain is as common as bread, black humor is the stock and trade of laughs. To alleviate his mind, he began to think of them. His personal favorite came first to mind, one he heard from a doctor in fact back in the hospital:

In a hospital, a man in a white robe walks from one patient to another and asks their height. One patient said "Doctor, instead of asking such stupid questions you should be treating us better." The man in the white robe smiled and said "I am not a doctor, I am а carpenter".

Bobinsky laughed. That was a good one!

He suddenly wondered if he should be writing his will.

Pushing the black humor aside, he figured the best way to relax would just to continue on singing. And so he did. He sang once again of love and loss and hope, until he mind wandered back to happier times, the mice in the circus…writing music…making friends with Coraline…much good, much good.

He frowned. He heard something in the walls.

He stopped, walked out a bit, and put a mine facing the wall.

He smiled, nodded, and walked off.

The thing blew off behind, and he jumped out of his skin. Instinctively drawing his gun, he pointed at the remains of the wall. There was a gaping hole in the wall filled with shredded remains, but no rats…and little else.

"Huh, trigger happy much are we?" he said to the exploded mine as he walked up to inspect the damage. "Guess it's better than-"

He barely saw the first flash before they began pouring out. He had seen rats before, in large numbers, crawling through ruins and the dead. They had been frightening then, in the way any pest was. Now, as he looked into their eyes, he saw not a pest, but a parasite, a demon that slowly drank the souls out of men.

He instinctively pulled the trigger. Like a red flower the flames bloomed, consuming the horde. He backed off with one hand on the trigger, while he began to kick back the ones that escape the flames. The little beasts went for his feet and up his legs, like scurrying black forms crawling all over him. One got to his head, scurrying up his arm and up his back. He flicked his head back, smacking the rat back and off him. Between the cussing, burning, the smell, the sound of other mines going off, and the scurrying hordes now bursting form within the house, he soon admitted to himself something he had been hoping to deny.

He was probably going to die...slowly.

* * *

><p>The Cat was able to lose the mangy mutts, and had only gotten back to the house in time to see it get blown, piece by piece, apart. Inside, he heard Bobinsky screaming, cursing his hated foes, while the rats squealed in pain and squeaked in fury.<p>

The Russian was being eaten alive.

He moved with haste born of fear and rage. Approaching the house cautiously, he avoided the shockwaves and snuck back into the crack in the house that did not exist, walked down the steps that held no mass, arrived on the shore that knew no water, and stopped before the river that stood still. Crossing the river that did not flow, he arrived on the shore that knew no land, and began to sniff for his target. He pondered over the walls that did not stand, cursing his weakness. It had been a long time since he had truly hunted, so long that his natural instinct had become dampened by time.

Truly, time stood against him now in all things. He just wondered what he did to offend it so.

He sniffed and poked around till he found a hole. It was not hard to miss; it smelled of thrown away children and lost souls. It was smaller than he was, but that was fine. He merely let go of his physical form and slip right in, phasing in and out of the material. It was a trick he had learned from a snake that had once roamed the woods nearby, and now it was put to good use.

He slipped in, passing by the various chambers that held scraps of the lost things of mankind, a doll's eyes, a man's dreams, someone's car keys. Such was the meat and drink of a race that rose from weakness on the back of others. That is one thing he always despised, a lack of independence. Why couldn't everybody be like a cat, and just do what they want to do and leave others be? Unless, of course, it was a crisis; that goes without saying. Even some humans understood that, for goodness sakes, humans! But some of the lesser species (ahem, wolves and their distant, mentally handicapped relatives, dogs) were always more apt to follow than lead.

True to form, the rats had rushed blindly for the kill, good old mob mentally forcing all of them to rush wildly at the material world. He would have very little trouble tearing at their nests, but finding them was a whole another matter. It was hard to track a specific scent in a system of tunnels, even one as vile as a birthing rat mother. It would take time, and that problem had only worsened. By now, Bobinksy was food, and Coraline was hopefully in a church. Once the rats realized that their prize was not at the Pink Palace, they would be either forced to move now to another accursed place or attempt a foolhardy rush to the world outside the palace in hopes that they would find where Coraline was hiding. Either way, someone else was going to suffer. Now, the Cat was realistic, but not needlessly cruel. Bobinsky's death was expected in most accounts, but having the rats move would only allow their evil to linger elsewhere. Odd as it sounded, he hoped the rats would seek out Coraline. That way, they would use their energy up and be unable to replenish now that they would have no one feeding them and no place to hide and lick their wounds. The church should prevent the rats from entering, and the problem would be solved. Of course the Pink Palace is now for all practical sense gone, but living homeless was better than Coraline becoming another Beldam…

There would be of twinge of sweet revenge in it for him as well. Being cut off, the rats would slowly starve to death and madness just as the Beldam did. Delicious irony, would it not?

The Cat cooled his devilish delight, and put his effort on finding the scent of the mothers. They would probably be unable to produce children now without constant food, but since no longer dealing with childe they would be able to actually face him in combat. Despite this, they would still be there guarding the nests, their motherly instinct greater than their hunger. He would simply hunt them down one-by-one and kill them each.

He had made on mistake however, in tracking the nests. Just because the mothers would be guarding the nests would not be at the nests. He discovered this when, while crossing a great crossway, he heard a vicious scream.

_"Off with their heads!"_ some female shrieked as she lunged for him out of the shadows. He turned around and swatted her aside, when 3 others came charging from his exposed rear. One got his tail, the two others clamped onto his legs. They began to tear at him with vicious and age-old hatred, and he yowled instinctively in pain. Flipping around, he began to shake them off, but 3 more landed back him, and before he knew it he was physically overwhelmed.

This was turning out to be a most deplorable day of his life.

* * *

><p>The second-to-last chapter of this story arch! We're almost there!<p>

Sadly, my time to write on this story has been significantly hampered by other things, other projects, and an honest (though hopefully, temporary) lack of passion. Sorry if this work seems lacking in some areas, but I figured you would rather me at least finish the story instead of just leaving it to rot uncompleted until suddenly, quite possibly months from now, I get my spark and life back. Thank you for sticking through it and enjoying it, and I hope that is has somehow still lived up to the standards you expected.


	9. The Otherside

Otherside  
>by the Marvelous March Hare<p>

Ever been suffocated? It's like life has just been cut off from you, and you have less than 30 seconds to get it back it. Nothing else matters, just you and your will to live. Your lungs freak out, but instead of jumping around they just curl up in your chest and wait for the results. The rest of you is going a hundred miles, kicking and screaming to live…just to live.

And then, there's that piece of you, that, depending on your nature, or life experience, may be bigger or smaller…much like a cancerous tumor. If you give in to that piece of you that most people talk of and few honestly listen to, you die.

If not, you live until you die like everyone else.

Coraline was experiencing just that.

You never want to die, you just want the pain to stop. Simple logic: if life did not hurt, you would probably not mind living it. But it does, and so you do mind living it, some days more than others.

You also have a piece of programming, deeply imbedded in you, as deep as the primal emotions such as fear, joy, and sorrow. Ride down the ladder, right down to the core of your being, and you will find it, beyond the pain, beyond the terror, beyond the mortal.

it's called Hope, and it's a broken winged angel.

Some people learn to live with it broken, some learn to fix it. Those that do fix it keep moving forward, those that don't...don't.

Coraline was also experiencing this.

Her life was ticking before, a clock with a beginning and a end. Try to stop it, and you won't. Try to go with it, and you will find it over before you know it. Don't do anything, and it will be longer than you ever dreamed.

She wanted to live. She wanted to die. She wanted the pain to just stop.

She knew she was in a church, a typical protestant church that played at being a small catholic church. The only thing that felt truly catholic was the stained glass windows, but the ornamentations and pretty things, not representations of any scene of the Bible or the like. She knew this because she could see, but she also knew that her eyes were not open. She could just "see" it, in her mind's eye, like she was outside herself looking in.

Coraline never talked to God in her life, except when her goldfish was sick and needed healing. He never did heal it, and so it died. She never talked with him again, not really out of bitterness, but more of the typical way people are with religion and higher thought.

Don't think about it, and it doesn't exist. Think, and you give it life. Giving something life that was beyond your control. Something being beyond your control, or something you wished you could control on you own terms, was just about the fear of every woman or man who ever lived.

You never realize you had unanswered questions until you realized you are dying and you never asked them in the first place, in fear you would get an answer.

The Cat never hinted at God, but she figured there was something more than just the Beldam. She figured that there had to be other spirits, good and evil. She figured that there had to be good and evil in each person, or something like that. She figured that, much like the Big Bang, there had to be a giant push from nowhere that started everything.

She had her mother's sensibility, but her father's fantasy. A thick-skinned girl with big eyes, she was born a contradiction. Hated being lonely, disliked a lot of people, she was a contrary child. She could lead the charge, and hated listening to others, but often achieved her best results when she thought of what others did and what others told her. She was afraid, but bold. She was a mighty, but she was still a child, a girl with dreams and hopes, a person born imperfect.

She was Coraline.

"God, can you hear me? It's Coraline."

_"Yes, Coraline,"_ a voice said to her, though whether her own spirit or a greater being she didn't know.

"Can you help me? I don't know what's going on, and I want to just give up and… let it all go."

_"Please don't give up. You're braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think."  
><em>

"Yeah, I guess. I did beat the Beldam. But this seems so much bigger-"

_"So did the Beldam when you faced her. However, you beat her, and if you can beat her-"_

"I can beat this."

There was a sudden still in the void, and then, a burst of blinding light.

_"Now you're talking."_

* * *

><p>Coraline opened her eyes. At first, everything was black, and she could feel nothing like she was back in the Void. Then, slowly, light broke through, and she could feel a soft cushion beneath, as if she was lying on a bed. She began to make out the windows she already knew were there, she began to sense she was not on a bed, she felt her body breathe, ever so slightly. She took another breath, and she could see again. She now knew she was on pew. She knew it was just her, her parents, and the sound of silence…yet again, no God.<p>

But, instead, a purpose.

Her mother was rubbing her arm, with tears in her eyes and her other hand clenched in a fist. She was praying, but it took Coraline a minute to realize this.

"Hey, Mom." Was all she could manage, but it was enough. Charlie and Mel's eyes shot open, and their heads swiveled in a flash to their daughter.

"Coraline!" they cried in unison. They wrapped their arms around their daughter, waves of love gracing the shores of Coraline's heart. It had been too long.

"Oh, my twitchy, witchy girl!" Charlie cheered and cheered, while Mel merely cried tears of joy.

"Easy! Easy!" Coraline cautioned. "I'm still getting back to the whole being alive thing."

Charlie and Mel backed off, but their hands still held to Coraline like iron bands. "We thought we had lost you!" Mel said with a laugh.

"I'm better now I guess." Coraline replied as she tried to move. Her parents shared instant looks; she looked like a cross between Marilyn Mansion and an anorexic model. But she was acting like their daughter again, stubborn and chatting, so they both kept their mouths shut.

"Now hold there you little dragon snap." Charlie went to stop her. "Alive or not, you need to rest."

"No, Dad, I need to go help the Cat with whatever is wrong with me." She stopped, and suddenly looked around. "What are we doing in church, and why has the roof not fallen on Mom's head?"

Mel rolled her eyes. "Now we know she's doing better. Dear, the Cat…told us…" she realized just how weird she sounded. "that to protect you from the rats…we had to get you to a church. You know, holy ground."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Coraline began to get her temper up. "You mean that stuck-up wuss-puss talked to you before he talked to me!"

"No, no!" Charlie corrected. "Mr. B translated…" he began to stumble over their words. "for him."

"You mean he can talk to mice and cats now?"

The couple looked at each other. "Apparently." Charlie shrugged.

"Coraline." Mel interjected solemnly. "Mr. B and the Cat are out trying to stop whatever is coming for you."

"They're out there without me?!" Coraline lifted herself up, her thin limbs finding new strength. "Why those jerk wads! I'm gonna give them a piece of my mind when we get there!"

"Oh, no Coraline!" her mother stopped her. "We are not leaving this building until everything is safe!"

"But, Mom, they can't stop it!" Coraline countered. "I have seen it." The silence rang for eternity. "I have seen...it." she confessed, a little more reluctantly. "They need help. My help."

Charlie slowly stumbled back into reality. "But...how can you-?"

She interjected. "I'm the new Beldam."

* * *

><p>He hated rats, even at the best of times. They were inferior, verminous, and lacking in polite manners. But they did have some things he did envy. Where there was one rat there was 5 others, so they always had numbers. They also had a certain ferocity to them, that was only strengthened the larger their numbers were.<p>

Three laid dead at his feet, while the other four had him surrounded, with his back to a wall. His right leg was utterly useless, and screamed like a banshee in pain. His other leg was only better off because it was still working, but it too was in agony. His back had sustained a vicious bruising, but it would heal if he could get out of this. His paws were bloodied, and his teeth bared. The remaining fiends had him in a corner, and while his mind told him to run, his savage heart told him to just charge in and tear them to pieces.

They were closing in, their chattering tongues dripping with venomous saliva.

He took leave of his senses.

The Cat sprung at the one farthest to his right, boxing it on the nose. The others leapt toward him as their sister stumbled to the ground. He twisted his body, and was able to leap off his one better leg while raking his left claw on the side of the one closest to him now. He was now behind the rats, but his injuries prevented him from taking advantage. The rats turned back to face him before he could make a move, while the knocked down sister was now getting her second wind. The Cat bucked his back legs, and managed to hit the fallen sister again, his back claws slicing her face. The three remainders charge in, but this time the two on the sides flanked him while the one in the middle charged him head on. He took the one in the middle head-on, leaping by her as best as he could while swinging away. She backed off quicker than he expected, but the other two leapt into his sides. His vital organs now exposed, he twisted his body to the side, forcing one rat to hit only his back again while the other met his 3 good claws. He savaged her in a flash, while jumping back on his one good foot. He now contended with the one on his back, who had dug its teeth into him and was now attempting to chew its way to his spinal canal.

He flipped on his back again, and then rolled to his feet. The rat was bucked off, but the pain in his back was now unbearable. He knew from the pain; bone was being exposed to the open air, and the chill was utterly miserable. The bucked off rat was getting up, while the one he had maimed was now crawling back from the shadows. The one good one left was nowhere to be-

A sudden movement from behind told him that he had just been flanked.

* * *

><p>By the time the Jones had made it, the Pink Palace was in ruin. Everything from the main floor up was blown out, like some cake that had been left too long to bake and now was now bursting out. The windows were already broken into thousands of shards of glass from the shockwaves, blanketing the area while rats...hundreds of rat corpses surrounded the place, caught in the explosions and carried from the house out. The smell was atrocious, the deceased rats' burnt flesh filling the air with noxious fumes. A fire, started somewhere in the upper area, was now raging through the house, so not only was the cake ruined, it was now being set ablaze. Given all the explosions, there were holes all up in the house, but in each hole there burst forth a blazing inferno, as if their lovely home had become gate to Hell.<p>

This would had all been manageable for Coraline if not for the fact Miss Spink and Forcible had called the fire department down, and to make matters worse she could hear the sounds of sirens in the distance.

The Jones pulled up the road behind the fire department. "Son of a bitch." Charlie murmured. Mel put her hand to her mouth in disbelief, for though she knew that this would not end well this was far worse than she expected. True to form, Bobinsky had "forgotten" to tell the Jones about his old stash of landmines.

Coraline wasted no time. As soon as the car stopped, she bolted forth. I'll be back!" she yelled over her shoulder. "I love you!"

Mel yelled in both motherly concern and anger. "Coraline! Stop!"

Coraline did not, not for her mother, not for the two firemen that came racing towards her, not for the smell of burning corpses or blazing inferno that laid before her. She rammed into the front door, and ran up the stairs. The fire had, as seen from the outside, consumed the top half of the apartment. The world was full of smoke that hung heavy to the top, but was slowly making its way back down.

"Mr. B!" she screamed into the flames. "Mr. B!" she cupped her hands around her mouth. The smoke began to fill her lungs, and she started to cough. "Bobinsky!"

"Over here _golubushka_!" harked a weak and tired voice. The giant's arm, though obscured by the smoke, rose for a moment and waved, then fell back down. He was the on the other side of the fire, sitting in noble defeat and leaning in one of the corners that stood next to her room.

"Hold on, I'm coming!" she replied.

"That's a relief!" Bobinsky laughed weakly. "For a minute I thought you were just going to let me warm up a bit more!"

"Oh, shut-up!" She cried back over to him, as she took a step back, and leapt through the fire. She felt an overbearing heat surrounded her, and then leave as she landed on the floor. She stumbled, but only for a moment, and then landed on her knees, crawling over to the fallen giant.

He looked like living Swiss cheese. The flesh of his legs and arms were all torn open, and blood gushed from them freely. His right hand was torn to ribbons, and would take months to heal if it didn't develop an infection (which was more likely than not). His face and torso had a whole lot less damage, but his back was cut up like some demon had ran his claws up and down it. He looked delirious, a sort of manic exhaustion that came from surviving the worst.

"I seemed to have an amazing job, no?" he smiled at her.

"Yes, amazing." Coraline said, though she could only feel her heart breaking in her chest. "Like you always do." She tried to smile, but the tears still snuck out. "Now, put your arm around me you big blue dummy. We're getting out."

"Out, Caroline?" he muttered, as Coraline took his arm and put it around herself. "That would seem highly unlikely given our current state." That much was true.

"Well, you've got blue skin… and you talk to mice and cats." she replied. "I think you know personally that the unlikely happens."

Bobinsky laughed, but said no more as the two rose together. The Russian was tired and broken, and the girl was choking on smoke and trying to lift a man more than twice her height while not touching his injuries any more than necessary. To both their surprise, they got up, and slowly began to move.

Downstairs, Coraline heard voices.

"The firemen are coming up!" she cried jubilantly.

The stairway way fell with a loud crash like it had been swallowed by fiery jaws, a roar like a roaming lion seeking whom it can devour.

"I don't think it'll be anytime soon." the Russian quipped.

"Come on! We'll use my window!" Coraline began to pull Bobinsky to her room. "They've got to have a ladder or tarp to catch you!"

The girl's room suddenly fell through, and the fire, as if forcing its way up, burst from the wreckage.

"What the hell!" she screamed.

"Yeah, that's what we get for thinking it would be that easy." Bobinsky said, then, suddenly he swooned. Coraline's knee's nearly buckled in surprise.

"Whoa!" she cried. The giant suddenly turned back to reality, lifting himself back up.

"Caroline," he rasped, his body covered in sweat and blood. "Get out of here! Let me die! I have lived my life, now do the same!"

"No! Nobody dies on my watch! Got it?" she spat back, but her lungs filled with her outburst and she fell into a fit of coughing.

"I don't think we have much choice in the matter, huh, Caroline?" he snickered deliriously. "We all got to die some time, no?"

Outside, she could hear her parents screaming, men barking and yelling orders, sirens ringing in her ears and eyes. The fire was moving fast, helped only by the generous supply of air the explosions had produced. There was no way down, no way out the side, and they were running out of air.

"Think, Coraline!" she thought, "Think!" Bobinsky faded out again, and suddenly his weight all came crashing down on her. She landed hard on one of her knees, while she pushed up vainly with the other foot. "Damn it!" she cried.

Below her, she could feel the heat and smoke rising through the cracking floor...wait a second, cracks!

"Here goes nothing!" she groaned, closing her eyes and pushing her mind out in all directions. Her first push yielded only a blood vessel bursting in her head and she gasped for air, only managing to swallow cinders. Her throat burned, and her lungs went into another fit.

"Come on!" she cried, and she pushed her mind out again. This time, she felt as if she had seen something, but only a glimpse in the dark. Beneath her, the floor buckled.

"Son of a bitch!" Her world flashed in and out. She felt her muscles fail, her head explode, her body collapse into a black void.

She felt a tiny tear in the fabric of space, and pulled it open.

* * *

><p>Bobinsky felt like he was falling, and then like he had landed on something hard. Then he woke up and realized he had, in fact, fallen and landed on something hard. When he opened his eyes, his brain swam with pain. He was face down on what felt like the coldest, blackest stone he could ever fine. All around him was near-darkness, yet not a sound could be heard except the beating of his heart. It was like he had fallen in a Void, a place between places.<p>

His limbs were still half-eaten, and the pain was like that of a thousand needles sticking in him. He couldn't move without the tears and bites acting up, and he could barely breath with all the weight on his chest. He started off with small breaths, and then worked his way up, keeping his mind as focused on the breathing as possible, to do anything but to think about how much pain he was in, the full extent of his training subconsciously kicking in.

Slowly, his mind and reality fully tuned in to the same frequency, and he could make out the blurry form of Coraline, paler than it was physically possible, leaning up against a rock that melded almost seamlessly with the ground. She was gasping for air, as if she had just escaped nearly drowning, but she was not sweating. In fact, she looked remarkably like an shiny, anorexic porcelain doll.

"Mr. B?!" she anxiously smiled through the breathes. "How are you?"

"I could really use a drink right about now, but otherwise I'll get through." he muttered. "What happened?"

"I pulled us out of reality, I think." Coraline replied, struggling just to breath. "I don't think I did it right though."

"Nonsense. It felt right to me."

The two tried to laugh, but it was meager imitation at best. There they were, for what felt like an eternity, shivering in the cold and gasping for life.

"Why did you take them on your own?" Coraline asked when she finally gained control of her breath.

"No one else could help." He simply replied, gritting through the pain. "The kitty was gone, and your parents had you, so I just took it head on."

"Sucks to take things head on, doesn't it?" she smiled.

"Like a vacuum." he replied. "Sorry about the house. I knew you were just getting use to the place too."

"Well, it's not the first time I moved. At least now moving will be easier now that there's nothing to move."

Silenced reigned again, and all Bobinsky could hear was strained breathing the sound of his heart and head pounding away. Finally, Coraline felt herself ready to move. She put her arm on the rock and began to prop herself on her legs. "Alright, Mr. B, I'll be back in a jiff. I got to get the Cat-"

"What?!" he jumped with a start. "You want to go help the Кошка in your condition?"

"The what?" She sputtered, as she got on her two, thin legs.

"The kitty cat!" he answered, as he too began to struggle in vain to get up. Tears of pain began to well in his eyes with each strain. "What makes you think he needs help?"

"First of all, you are staying on the ground whether you like it or not." She stumbled over to him and put a reassuring hand on his head. "You are in no condition to move. Second of all, I just got a feeling. I'll get the Cat, come back, and get us back to reality. I know its stinks, but you'll have to remain here until then. Don't worry about the rats" she said before he could interject. "I've been listening to the echoes, and I ain't been hearing nothing but emptiness."

She began to make her way clumsily down the tunnel.

"Finish it for all of us, okay?" he asked.

"Of course," she grinned back, fading away into the black.

"Just do me a favor and stay alive while you do that, okay?" he called down the tunnel.

There was no answer. Only the echo, and then…nothing.

Just him, the pain, and the silence…

* * *

><p>Coraline did not know what she was really doing. She did not know how she should feel about this curse that had been mysteriously planted in her, if it could be cured or not. She did not want to feel about losing the house or quite possibly Bobinsky orand the Cat. All she knew was that she had a scent, a chance to win the day, and a score to settle.

It was time to finish the game.

The tunnels were heavy with the smell of refuse, of death and slow decay, yet all running at the manic pace, a pace a human would not understand for rats, unless highly gifted, live relatively short lives, so they must pack everything in a short and sometimes brutal times. It was nauseating to all senses, and Coraline found herself choking on it all. It was like an endless stream of bad news clips of wars and plagues and endless suffering, a broken faucet forever spewing cold.

She shivered, not only out of fear, but out of realization. This was the realm she was connected to, his place of pain and sorrow. She did not understand it, but she knew it like a spider knows how to spin a web, to hunt, to kill. Even now, Coraline felt hungry, and it was not the hungry for cooked goods or sweet beverages.

She tried not to dwell on it either.

The tunnels were small, for everything that was small to her in the material was large to her now. A pair of scissors, a scrap of cloth, a blind man's sunglasses. Why? She didn't know yet, but once she got the Cat's rear in gear she would be getting those answers she wanted.

"The jerk," she muttered under her breath. Countless nights, she had talked to him, and he never answered back. That would have been all fine and dandy, but would he at least had the respect to tell her what was happening ? Even IF he couldn't speak DIRECTLY in the material!

She swore in her head. She had been stupid in her own account, however. At first she had pushed everything off as the long-awaited changes she had been waiting for in puberty. She actually was happy about being so thin, considering her grandmothers on both sides had a physical semblances to watermelons. But the changes happened faster than she expected, so she lied to herself and threw her worries aside as growth spurts. Her parents must've too, or else they would have been alarmed to see their daughter becoming a holocaust victim in a matter of months.

She got colder, but only everyone else noticed it. She got quieter, but she thought she was finding less reasons to talk. She was getting more solitary, but she only figured…well, that she really didn't notice until the day her mother came in to talk to her on her own free will. It was then that the ugly truth hit her; she had not talked to her mother in weeks. One of the two people she had gone to Hell and back for and she had not talked to her, really talked to her, in was what had happened to her, and it was unacceptable.  
><span>

She was now determined to change things, to eat more, to force herself to talk more, and the such. But that was only a few days ago, so when she caught a massive fever only two days later, she had been able to do little work. Then she woke up this morning from uneasy dreams to find herself transformed in her bed into a monstrous vermin…

The anxiety she had been pushing down suddenly burst in her chest, and she suddenly fell on the wall, gasping for breath and begging for air. "God, can this get any worse?!" she thought.

The pained yowl of a cat rang down the halls, as if the Universe had answered her question with a devious grin and laugh.

"CAT!" she cried, and burst into a run. She no longer felt pain, or stiffness, though it was still there, hindering her movements but not her heart. She forced her body into motion, and ran down the halls in a blur, lost things flashing by her. A second scream, rat-like in nature, answered her. She followed it down the tunnels, instinctively putting her hands on the walls to feel the vibrations. Following the motions, she made turn after turn in a dizzying motion that was beyond her mortal comprehension. She now moved by action, led by will, incapable of no other thoughts but the objective before.

The tunnel she was now following opened into a crossroads of sorts, and it was there that the sounds of a tremendous battle rang from. She burst into the opening, and instinctively dropped on the first rat she saw. Her hands turned into elongated claws, which bit into the vermin's fur, and she ripped with a shout into the poor fools' guts. In a matter of seconds she had disemboweled it, leaving it merely a wiggling mass of skin and pain, and then that too was no more. Blood slicked, Coraline turned to face her other opponents, her teeth sharped needles.

Savage rage was cooled by the sudden calm, she could now make out her opponents. There were 2 left standing now, one with barely a face left from what must have been one savage clawing, and the other, which was still in full health. They were both roughly her size, so she did now know for a fact she was smaller than usual. The two, with mouths bloodied, back off from her, bowed by her display of power. On the other side of the area, there laid Cat, cuts to pieces and showing signs that, though still barely breathing, the rats had begun to feast on him…

"Oh, mightiest of mighty Beldam," said the healthy one as it cautiously approached her with its nose to the ground, "we have-"

It didn't get a chance to finish, as Coraline sank both her hands into its skull and ripped out its brain in rage. She then turned to the other rat, but all she caught sight of was its tail disappearing into the safety of the dark tunnel. "I'll handle with you soon enough," she hissed.

A soft mew graced her ears, dissolving all her anger with fear. She turned around, and looked upon the ruined, now-giant form of Cat. He was mangled in each limb and tails, the places where the rats had eaten on, and his body was torn up and down.

He was near death.

A wave of pain fell on Coraline, and she ran over to the Cat, wrapping her tiny arms around the massive, beautiful beast. "Oh, Cat, I'm so sorry."

"No, it was my fault." He coughed, his eyes blinking open for a second, and then closing. "I never was brave enough to tell you… to warn you of the dangers left. I had thought it all over, or so I dreamed. But I was proud, and underestimated their strength while not realizing… the extent of my own. I guess that's what I get for lounging about in the Sun and accepting-" he coughed again. "all those damn handouts." He snickered, and then coughed some more. His eyes were growing dim.

"It's hard to resist a cute face." Coraline tried to laugh, but it only broke. She stroked the noble beast's fur. "What do I do now?"

"Kill the last of the mothers, and leave this realm. Then, the curse will be lifted. But, I warn you," he said, "the last one will try to talk to you and convince you otherwise. She is now the only one, and will use all the cunning of her kind to manipulate you, like they did to the last Beldam…"

His eyes, once bright green with whimsical energy and knowledge, fell black. "Good-bye, Coraline."

His head fell heavy into her lap.

"Good-bye, Cat."

The silence was defeaning.

* * *

><p>Bobinsky woke up the hospital, upside down, and with enough gauze on his back and legs and face to make a mummy. He could still see and talk, but he was on his stomach, with his head poking through the bottom what must have been a modified bed for such patients. Before him was a table with a half-empty glass of orange juice, now warm, and three "Get Well!" cards. One was from the Spink and Forcible, the second was from the Jones, and the second was from his Mice and Coraline.<p>

He could only beam with joy. He was a alive! And he was loved! Which considering his lifestyle and recent actions were both surprises!

Looking back, he could only assume he passed out from the strain not too long after Coraline left him. Personally, he felt like the time he got up from his coma, but this time he was just stiff and sore all over. However, he knew he was not asleep nearly as long, guessing from the calendar he could see up on the wall facing him.

On that same wall was a window, shining light down upon him. It was a warm summer day, still the morning, so the light was golden, and gentle. The skyline the city glowed before him, yet all he could hear was the twitter of birds out his window. He felt a calm descend upon him. The war was over and the peace put his weary soul to rest. Even now, the voices that had haunted him for so long did not even raise a whisper.

Truly, he was a happy man.

It was then that he saw Coraline, her knees tucked up, sitting underneath the window. She was asleep, he first thought, till she said his name.

"Mr. B?"

She rose her head slowly. She looked like she was suffering from a hangover, her face pale and worn and ragged. Her hair as a mess, black roots sticking over from her skull along with her blue ends. She wore a tank-top and sweat pants, both of which were pitch black. If he hadn't such amazing eyesight, he would of missed her; she almost was invisible in the shadows. Strangely, her eyes looked like pits of black, almost as if they were…

"I am here." He opened up, only to find his mouth dry. "How is everyone?" he tried to sound cheerfully, but he was still exhausted.

"Everyone has moved in with Misses Lovett and Wybie." She cracked a small smile at the packed and mad image of all that oddness under one roof. "Everyone is still adjusting, but they're working something out. Fortunately, she had insurance on the house, so it's being repaired to its original, boring, pink form as we speak." A light chuckle escaped her body.

"And you?" he queried.

"I'm alive." She said, her eyes filled with exhaustion. He could see now that she was stroking something in her hands, but it was hidden by her knees.

"That's good to hear." He replied. "What of the…" he tried to finish his statement, but he felt reluctant to speak of it.

"They're taken care of." She said, with a slight smile of her own. "The state has decided that the fire was an accident, and the rats were just an unknown pest problem. They never found any other problems whatsoever."

"That's relieving to hear," the Russian let out a sigh. "Though law trouble was the last thing on my mind."

"What is on your mind then?"

"The…curse? Is it…"

"Same as the rats."

Bobinsky felt himself chuckle in joy, as the morning light reflected from his eyes. "That's…amazing to hear."

* * *

><p>Coraline walked out of the hospital, cradling the little animal in her arms. "Well, I say all that goes well ends well."<p>

"Yes-yes, oh kind and merciful Beldam." Said the mother rat, her face now healed save for the massive scars.

"I'm in the mood for some pink lemonade. How about yourself?" the young girl inquired with thoughtful, hungry look in her eyes.

"Oh, most certainly, mighty mistress. I have been craving for some lemonade. Being with pups makes one thirsty-dry."

"Then it's settled," Coraline smiled as she walked out the hospital doors . "We'll get some lemonade, and then settle down for some child molester."

"I don't know _how_ you can eat the souls of such foul people." The Cat said, bouncing from his hiding place in a nearby bush. His body was healed up, but one could identify scars were stiches were once put in. "But it does make the world a better place. You can find him on the 3rd apartment story down the way of the barber shop. He's been ignorant of my presence around his chambers, so capturing him should be as easy as it comes. All you would have to do is ensnare him and drag him away."

The three turned the corner and began down the street, as Coraline placed the pregnant mother on her shoulder and scooped up the cat in her arms.

"Good job, Cat. By the way," she pseudo-seductively purred into his ear. "I finally mastered that transformation spell I learned from the butterfly. We can finally go to that sweet, little malt shop for a date instead of your nasty old riverside."

"And not draw stares?" Cat laughed. "that would be purr-fect."

"With all due respect, oh beloved master," the mother rat suggested, slightly nervous. "could you two keep the cuddle-cuddle to a minimum?"

"Oh, alright, party pooper," Coraline groaned.

The Cat groaned even more. "Do you have any idea what I've gone through to finally get the girl, Rat?" he started getting riled up on a long and angered rant, as the three entered the local gas station to settle down to get some pink lemonades. The two girls rolled their eyes as the Cat began.

"Let me tell you what I had to put up with, first and foremost…"

* * *

><p><strong>And that's the end of our first story arc…and sadly, our only story arc, possibly for quite a few months. I'm being called away on some intensive business for some time, and while it's for the greater good, it will cost much of my down time. I will try to return to writing as soon as possible, but I will mostly stick to my "magnum opus"; V.I.P : The Villain Improvement Program, due to it's size and my desire to finish it. That means I might return to Coraline, and her tale which I dearly love, if I feel so inspired, but until then we will consider this little story to be done for all realistic purposes.<strong>

**I want to thank first and foremost my most dedicated readers, first and foremost of them Woodswolf, who always reviewed and loved my work, and even drew fan art for it (COME ON, HOW MANY WRITERS CAN SAY THEY HAD FAN ART DRAWN FOR THEIR STORIES BY SOMEONE OTHER THAN THEMSELVES?). Ahem, as I was saying. I thank you all, for without people to read and comment on their stories we writers would be lonely and miserable people.**

**You have all been a blessing, and I wish you all the best in your destinies and goals!**

**Sincerely Mad,**  
><strong>The Marvelous March Hare<strong>


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